


Times Like These

by st_mick



Series: He is the Sun... [8]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Decades of Study, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, New Friends, Saying goodbye to old friends, Stanley Archibald is a terrible name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:44:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Rory must recover from the blow of another lost child.  As he mends, he comes to appreciate his friends like never before.As the years flow by, he broadens and deepens his studies even as he stays involved with SHIELD.  His friends fill his life, and even as he makes new ones, he must bid farewell to others.





	1. Injuries and Amnesia

”You know, this would be easier if we knew a doctor,” Howard grumbled.  “I’m an engineer, not a surgeon.  And I should _not_ be messing with his liver!”

“Liver-ish,” Dugan corrected.

“You’re right.  Because livers aren’t _blue_!” he shouted.

“Look, he trusts you, and you know his anatomy better than anyone else.”

Howard backed away from the table and bent over a trash can and vomited.

“Sir, allow me,” Jarvis stepped forward.  At Howard’s look, he said, “I have taken the liberty of studying the anatomy books you have borrowed from the Lieutenant.”

“Why?”

“Curiosity, mostly.  As you know, I do have some modest medical skills.  Perhaps I can assist.”

Howard handed Jarvis the antiseptic and a pair of gloves.  Jarvis then proceeded to extract the bullet, seal the injured organ with one of the medicines in the first aid kit, and staple the wound closed. 

He went on to make short work of Rory’s other injuries – a bullet had ripped through the muscle in his thigh, one was lodged in the flesh of his hip, another had gone through his side, one was still in his shoulder, and one in his arm.  Individually, none of the injuries was serious.  But taken together, they had caused a great deal of trauma and blood loss. 

Howard found a leech and attached it to Rory’s lower back.  Then he rummaged through the first aid kit and found something he’d seen in passing when Rory had been hit by the bus.  He found the bottle and read the instructions.  “For blood loss,” he muttered.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to do anything while he’s out,” Dugan said, concerned.

“Should be safe,” Howard held up the bottle before grabbing the hypospray.  “And he’s going to need help with how much blood he lost.”

“Which was a startling amount,” Jarvis said, holding up the soaked fatigues.

Jarvis and Dugan washed Rory before dressing his wounds and placing him on a cot in one of the rooms set aside for sleeping.  Once he was settled, they cleaned themselves up and reconvened in the galley.

“What the hell happened out there?” Howard asked.  “He shouldn’t have been running point.  He was too close to this.”

“He tossed his rifle at me and walked in while we were still establishing a perimeter,” Dugan said, shaking his head.

“Went in and sat down at Vostov’s table like they were old friends,” Morita added.  “Never seen anything like it.”

“At that point all we could do without getting him killed was follow his lead and wait for an opening.  Out of the blue, he stood up, drew his sidearm, tossed the table aside, and grabbed Vostov.”

“Remember when he went after that little girl, during the war?” Morita asked.

Dugan nodded.  Howard and Jarvis looked at them curiously, and Dugan briefly explained.

“He handles a pistol like…” Morita trailed off.

“Like he’s used to having one built into his hand,” Dugan said quietly.

“That story is so… out there.  But to see him shoot, you just know it’s true,” Morita said.

“What did he do?” Howard asked.

“He emptied his pistol in half a minute.  Eight shots.  Eight men down,” Dugan said, reaching for his drink.

“With identical wounds to their right shoulders,” Morita added.  “Identical.”

“He didn’t kill any of them?” Howard asked, frowning.  “That’s a big risk.”

“He saw a kid in a fez,” Dugan said.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“There’s a photo in his album.  The one he calls the Doctor, wearing a fez,” Jarvis said quietly.

“Gramps has always called himself a healer, first.  Soldiering doesn’t always tally with that.”

“Particularly not on this mission,” Howard said.  “I… to see his face, when he got on this plane.  Knowing him, I’m not surprised, but knowing what happened, how hard he took it.  I am surprised Vostov is still alive.”

“I think he walked into that coffeehouse looking for vengeance,” Dugan said.  “But he walked out, having exacted justice.”  As best he could, he explained what Rory had done to Vostov.

“And you don’t know what that word was?” Howard asked Dugan.

Dugan shook his head.  “He’s not going to give anyone that kind of temptation.  He was masterful, though.  I _think_ it was an act, but I am not sure, at all.  He was all up in Vostov’s space, leaning into him, whispering in his ear, brushing his hair off his forehead.  He even kissed his forehead before he did… whatever.  It was creepy.”

“As it was meant to be,” Jarvis said.  “He has never really hidden the fact that he is no stranger to madness.  He said earlier that he wasn’t in pain because of shock and insanity.  I imagine that recent events had him flirting with that old inclination, and the more he saw it unsettle Vostov, the more he flirted.”

“That sounds like a dangerous game,” Howard said.

“Which is why he’ll need all of his friends, when he awakens,” Jarvis rejoined.  He sighed.  “I don’t know what it is to lose a child, but I know what it is to lose the possibility of having children.  It… it has a peculiarly devastating effect.  I can’t imagine what he must be feeling.”

Dugan scrubbed a hand over his face.  Jarvis had no way of knowing that their friend was suffering under both burdens.

“I don’t get it,” Morita spoke up.  “I mean, yeah.  That’s sad.  But what’s wrong with adoption?  I was adopted.  Damned glad of it, too.”

Jarvis got a wistful look on his face.  “Quite right.  Perhaps someday.”

Dugan frowned, wondering if Rory had considered that.  Surely, he must have.  And then he thought of Sontarans and Weeping Angels and alien invasions, and he knew that Rory would never expose a child to such danger.  Perhaps he was saving that possibility for “someday”, as well, but not counting on it because of his dangerous life.

***

Rory woke with a gasp, and couldn’t seem to catch his breath.  He was in a world of darkness and pain.  The only thing that kept panic at bay was the smell.  It wasn’t home, but there was something familiar about it.

He felt a soft presence and a warm body holding his.  He could not see who it was.  A poshly accented voice was saying something soothing, but he couldn’t make it out.  He tried to speak but found he had no voice. 

Was he in hospital? 

Well, traveling with the Doctor, it was only a matter of time, he supposed.  Hopefully Amy would find him, soon, but he needed to remember what had happened.

He remembered… Venice.

This nurse was rubbish.  Totally unprofessional, to touch and hold a patient, as she was now doing.  But she smelled nice.  And her warmth and softness were so soothing…

He felt guilty for thinking such a thing, though he’d seen how Amy sometimes stared at the Doctor.  He sighed.  No point in feeling jealous.  Not like he could compete. 

He decided that these thoughts were too depressing to entertain.  He was so tired, and the way the soft, warm nurse was holding him felt really nice.  Amy wouldn’t mind, would she?  Not if he was injured and really couldn’t tell the nice nurse to have a care for his personal space.

He felt himself relaxing against her.  He closed his eyes.  He was surprised he wasn’t more disconcerted by being blind.  Or mute, for that matter.

The Doctor and Amy would make it better…

***

Peggy tried not to worry.  She and Jarvis lay Rory back down.  He had gasped awake, sitting up but clearly unable to speak or see.  She had held him and tried to reassure him, but she wasn’t entirely sure he had been able to hear her.  After some moments he had calmed, but it seemed more a surrender to the fatigue than any comfort he could have derived from her presence.

***

The next time Rory woke, he could see.  He was in a nicely furnished bedroom in what appeared to be a high-rise apartment building in… New York?

He didn’t remember travelling to New York.  Maybe that was after Venice?

He heard a soft sigh and looked to his left and saw a brunette in bed with him. 

He hit the floor hard and scrabbled away from it, wondering what the hell had happened.

“Rory?” the woman looked tired and worried, but alert.

He tried to speak, but couldn’t.  He looked at her, feeling panic rising.

She got out of bed and put on a dressing gown.  Then she opened the bedroom door and called for someone.  Rory stayed where he was, trying to make his voice work.

“Rory, it’s all right,” she knelt beside him.  “You’ve been in a healing coma for eleven days.”

Rory frowned and shook his head.  What the hell was a healing coma?

She reached out to touch him, but he backed away from her.  He felt weak and shaky and everything hurt.  He looked down to see that he was wearing only pajama bottoms.  He blushed furiously and grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair.  But then the scars caught his eye.

His body was covered in injuries.  And there was an old scar on his left pectoral muscle.  Where did _that_ come from?

_What the hell?_

And then he noticed what was missing.  He patted his chest, though clearly his key was gone.  He turned frantic eyes to the woman.  She was older than him – mid-thirties, perhaps – and quite beautiful.  But even her beauty could not calm his fear.

He’d lost his key to the TARDIS.  The Doctor would kill him.  Or worse, drop him back in Leadworth and fly off with Amy.

“Here,” the woman said, handing him the cord with a key hanging from it.  He sagged in relief.  But then he took a closer look.  The key was not his key.  It was heavier, like it had been carved from some sort of stone.  And also on the cord were two rings. 

Two wedding bands.  He frowned.

“You always take it off, when you go on a mission,” the woman said quietly.

“Peggy?” a man with the clipped tones of a well-trained servant entered the room with a tray.

Rory backed further away, pressing against the wall.

“There seems to be a complication,” Peggy said, frowning at Rory.  “Rory, do you know who we are?”

Rory looked from Peggy to the man with the tray and back again.  He shook his head.

“Oh, dear,” the man said.  He turned and put down the tray.  Then he sat in one of the chairs close to the window.  “Well, are you willing to believe us when we tell you that we are your friends?”

Rory blinked.  Why couldn’t he remember?  He raised the heel of his hand to his temple as a sharp pain accompanied a series of images as they flashed through his head.  This man and his Hungarian wife.  This woman in a white dress, walking towards him.  He gasped and moved further away.

“Right,” the man said.  “Come, my dear.  Let’s give him a few moments to acclimate.”

The woman – Peggy? – looked very reluctant to leave, but she rose unsteadily to her feet and took the man’s arm as they left the room.  She was leaning on his arm, ever so slightly.

Concern bloomed in his chest.  Was she injured?  He stood and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and slapped his hand against his thigh to try to get their attention.  This was a mistake.  He hissed as he looked down, but he couldn’t see how his thigh was injured.

He wondered if she had been injured at the same time.  He looked up and saw that they had turned back.  He pointed at her and then looked at her, frowning in concern. 

“I don’t,” she began.

“I believe he wishes to know if you are well,” the man said.

Rory nodded.  He hobbled towards her, uncertain that his legs would continue to support him.

“I’m fine,” she said, and he knew she was lying.

He shook his head.  Then he held his hands out in front of him, palms up – a questioning gesture.  What happened?

She looked pained.  He held out a hand and she took it, the gesture looking more like habit than anything else.  He led her to the settle at the foot of the bed and sat down beside her.  Having watched her walk, he pointed to her stomach.  Then he made a cradling gesture.

She nodded.  “Yes, I had a c-section about two weeks ago.”

Rory frowned.  There was something hanging about this woman, like a shroud.  He made the cradling gesture again.

Peggy looked at the man, who nodded, his face serious.  “The baby died.”

Rory looked appropriately sympathetic.  He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Another image flashed through his head.  The broken body of an infant, lying in his arms. 

Dying in his arms.

He gasped again and pressed his hand to his brow.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Rory got up and picked up the key, where he had dropped it, a moment before.  He held up the key.  The rings caught his eye again.

Images of Amy in a wedding gown.  The Doctor in top hat and tails.  Peggy in a wedding gown, walking towards him on the arm of an old soldier.  Amy in a bright, flowing tunic, flowers in her hair.

No, not Amy.

Aelia.

Rory’s legs gave way, but the man was across the room and caught him before he could fall.  “You’re remembering?”

Rory stared blankly at him.  He held up the key, his eyes questioning.

“I’m afraid the Doctor isn’t here.”

Rory blinked, not understanding.  The man helped him back to the settle.  Rory placed the key around his neck and gestured to his injuries.

“You were shot on a mission to capture a man named Uri Vostov,” the man said.

The image of a cruel looking man flashed through Rory’s mind.  He shook his head to clear it and then frowned.  Mission?

He must have looked incredulous, because the man smiled.  He brought over the small table with the tea tray on it, and then brought the chair over.  He prepared a cup of tea, just how Rory liked it, and handed it to him.

“My name is Edwin Jarvis.  You and I have been friends for almost fifteen years.”

Rory stared at him, and he smiled.

“Do you remember Rome?”

Rory blinked as more images flashed through his mind.  He shook his head, confused.

“You remember the Doctor, and the TARDIS.  How many of your travels do you remember?”

Rory frowned and shook his head.  He held up one finger – they’d only traveled to one place, so far.

“One trip?” Jarvis nodded.  “That was Venice, right?”

Rory blinked.  Nodded.

“And you don’t remember anything after that, though you seem to be having some flashbacks.”

Rory nodded.

“Drink your tea.”

Rory did as he was told.  Then he looked at the woman – Peggy.

 _Meg_.

He took her hand and gestured to the bed.  She looked very tired. 

“You want me to rest?” she asked.

He nodded.  He stood and led her to her side of the bed, where he looked away as she took off her dressing gown and climbed under the duvet.  He smoothed the blanket over her and gave her hand a squeeze before straightening.

“I think a walk might help,” Jarvis suggested.  “Here, allow me,” he reached around and removed the leech from Rory’s back.  Then he found a dressing gown and helped Rory put it on.

They walked down the hall to an airy living room.  Rory glanced around, and every view triggered more flashes.  He caught sight of a picture on the piano across the room and shuffled towards it.  He picked it up and stared.  Peggy, who he just helped into bed, a good ten years younger.  In a wedding dress.  Laughing up into the face of a man holding her as though he were the groom.  She was laughing up into Rory’s face as he smiled at her with a look of love and devotion.

Rory fainted.

***


	2. Tactical Retreat

Howard and Dugan walked in just as Jarvis was kneeling beside Rory.

“What the hell happened?” Howard asked.

“There seems to have been a complication,” Jarvis muttered.

Jarvis and Dugan carried Rory to the couch.  After draping a blanket over him, Jarvis explained Rory’s speech and memory loss.

“He must have been a good nurse,” Jarvis said.  “He could tell she was in pain, just from how she took my arm as we were leaving the room.  And he knew what kind of surgery she’d had.  He even managed to get her to lie down, which frankly is something of a miracle.”

***

Rory dreamt of battle.  Of a sky turned dark with arrows that found their way past, between and even through the strongest shields.  Of blood and fists and swords and the screams of the wounded and the silence of the dead.  Of a monstrous Statue of Liberty and opening an artery and dying, only to wake and be touched again.

Of automatic rifle fire and mortar explosions and the moans of the dying and an airplane he could not keep from taking off.  Of blow after blow raining down from a pair of small, strong hands intent on inflicting as much pain as they could.  Of a shootout in a coffeehouse, where this time he felt each injury. 

Of a broken child he could not keep warm.

Of being hauled backwards through the howling.

Rory woke screaming.  Except there was no sound except for a strange, loud exhalation.  He could not stop.  He felt a large body sit next to him and strong arms wrap around him.  “I’ve got you, Gramps,” he heard a gruff voice mutter.  He could not stop screaming.

When he calmed, he saw a man with dark hair approach with a hypospray.  “I think you may need this, for the pain and to help you sleep.”

Rory was out before Howard could set down the hypospray.

“Should we leave him here, or take him to the guest room?”

“He’s fine here.  We can watch over him,” Dugan said.

“What the hell was that?”

“A doozy of a nightmare,” Dugan answered.  At Howard’s curious look, he elaborated.  “He’s too weak to keep from doing that psychic bleed thing, so I got a hell of a look.”  He sighed.  “He’s seen a lot of battle, but the worst thing he’s ever seen was what happened to the baby.”

***

When Rory woke, it was almost morning and the other three men were asleep.  Dugan was sitting at the end of the couch, next to Rory’s head, with a hand spread protectively over Rory’s chest.  His head was tilted back on the couch, and he was snoring.  Jarvis was in one of the chairs, his head resting on his shoulder.  Howard was sprawled on the floor, his head on the seat cushion of another chair.

Rory quietly rose and headed to the kitchen, where he brewed coffee and tea and foraged for something to eat.  He was smearing honey onto a half slice of toast when Peggy came into the kitchen, looking far more rested.

Rory smiled and nodded to her.  At his questioning look, she said, “I slept well.  Did you?”

Rory waved a hand to indicate a so-so night.  He had slept well after the nightmare, but the images he had seen still had him feeling unsettled.

“Have…” she hesitated and he handed her a cup of very strong tea with sugar.  “Have you remembered… anything?”

He nodded.  He took the key from around his neck and pulled off his wedding band – the one that matched Meg’s – and put it on his finger.  Peggy sagged with relief as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.  He kissed her gently, then buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. 

Then he remembered what she had said the day before, about a c-section and a lost child.  Suddenly, it felt as though something exploded inside his head.  Rory fell away from Peggy and crashed to the floor, landing hard, writhing in pain and screaming silently.

“Rory!” Peggy was about to kneel down and check on him, but Dugan wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t touch him, either of you,” he said to Howard and Jarvis. 

“Something’s wrong,” Peggy protested.

“Yeah, and he’s not in control of the psychic bleed.  He wouldn’t want any of us to feel that,” he said.

“But we need to see what’s wrong,” Peggy was struggling weakly against Dugan.

“Peggy, I think I know what’s wrong,” he said quietly.  He had already told her what Rory had done to Vostov.  “This is how Uri reacted, when the bubble popped.”

Peggy stopped struggling.  In the next moment, Rory stopped screaming and curled up, riding out the pain and fear in silence, though clearly his body was still wracked with pain.  Once the time had passed, he calmed.  Dugan reached down and helped him sit up, his back to one of the kitchen cabinets.

“I thought you gave Vostov that bubble thing,” he said.

Rory shook his head wearily.  He looked at Dugan and frowned.  He reached out, but didn’t touch him, a question in his eyes, asking permission.  Dugan frowned and nodded, unsure what Rory was asking.

Rory took his hand and, as gently as possible, spoke to Dugan, mind to mind.  _I still have the memory of it_.

Dugan jumped but did not pull away.  “Holy shit!”  Rory released him, looking distressed, but Dugan reached out and grabbed his hand.  “Do that again!”

Rory gave a weary smile.  _It’s not a party trick, Tim_.

“No, but it could be,” Dugan grinned.  “I have an idea.”  He looked at Jarvis.  “Can you bring the picture?”  He looked back at Rory.  “I think you need to pop that bubble, once and for all, but let all of what’s in there out, and don’t put it back.  Don’t keep that inside of you.  Refill the bubble with the time you spent with him, after.  The lullabies and the whispers and the love.  That way, whenever the bubble may pop, you’ll feel the love, not the pain.”

Rory was looking steadily at Dugan.  _You have great ambitions as to what I can do, Tim_.

“I’ve seen what you can do.  If you can put the bubble in someone else’s head and attach a word that will pop it, then you can do this.  I think you’re reluctant to because you don’t want to forget Brian’s pain.  But you never will.  It’s not in you to forget that, so you don’t need the reminder.”  He sighed and squeezed Rory’s hand.  “Besides, the reason that kid was born wasn’t to cause you pain.  Let the love be your monument to him, not that pain and fear.”

Peggy reached out and squeezed Dugan’s shoulder.  “You are a very wise man, Tim,” she said, her eyes shining.

“I keep trying to tell you all that,” he quipped, still looking at Rory.  “What do you say?  C’mon.  I’ll be right here with you.”  Rory tried to shake his head, but Dugan settled in.  “Nope.  You’re not doing this alone, my friend.  Shared burdens, and all that.”

Rory closed his eyes and went inside, finding the bubble.  As he popped it, he heard Dugan’s voice, sounding strained.  “Just let it pass.  Don’t grab onto it.”  His entire body was tense as he tried to step back and allow the turmoil to spread out and fill every corner of his being, and some small part of him struggled to not break Tim’s hand as he breathed through the release.

When the six minutes and forty-two seconds had passed, Rory focused on dissipating the pain and fear rather than allowing it back into the bubble.  As the clouds thinned, he was left with the empty bubble, trying to re-form. 

Rory summoned all of his love.  He took the joy he’d felt over Meg’s pregnancy, the feeling of holding the baby in his arms, the lullabies, the nonsense he’d spoken, all of it.  He filled the bubble with every good thing, stubbornly ignoring how the hole inside of him expanded as he did so. 

As he was finishing, Dugan said, “Open your eyes, Rory.”

He opened his eyes to see the photograph taken at the hospital of him, holding Brian.  In it, the child’s eyes were open, his face serene with the ghost of a smile, or what could be interpreted as a smile.  Rory closed his eyes and placed that image into the bubble as well, before it sealed.  He opened his eyes again and stared at the picture for a few moments, feeling the hole inside of him expand, pulling him into it.

 _Going to be… out… again_.

Dugan nodded.  He and Jarvis helped Rory to bed, where Peggy joined him, holding his hand.  She remembered the day Rory arrived in 1940, how he had gone catatonic when she told him he was trapped, almost eight decades from home.  She caressed his dear face now, as he stared with a distressingly similar, blank expression.  She thought in passing how that beloved face had not changed at all, in twenty years. 

After a few hours, Rory seemed to come back to himself, at least enough to close his eyes.  He ventured deep inside his mind, finding the bubble and taking it into the TARDIS.  He found the special room, tucked away where he had left it, knowing that even in her mischief she would not relocate _this_ room.

He set the bubble down on a padded bench and walked around the room, which was a gallery, of sorts.  His mother was sitting in a rocking chair, smiling at him.  He kissed her on the cheek before turning to Aelia, who was smiling softly at him from a chaise longue not far away.  He kissed her hand before ruffling Drusus’ hair as he wrote his letters at a desk.  He kissed Claudia’s head as she worked on a drawing of Drusus.  He leaned over the cradle holding Aurelia and gave her a kiss.  He then visited another cradle holding Melody.  Then he gave Mels a hug as she played a video game.  He finally came to a new spot, where another cradle sat empty.

He retrieved the bubble and it popped one last time as he placed an unharmed baby Brian in the cradle.  He kissed the child and stared at him for a long while before taking one last look around and leaving the room.

He wandered the halls of the TARDIS until he found the garden.  Then he walked for what seemed like a good many miles until he found a secluded place next to a stream.

“You are upset,” Idris said.

Rory did not turn to look at her.  “You’re not the TARDIS.  What are you, a projection?”

“Of sorts.”

“So basically, I’m just talking to myself, right now.”

“The image you see is a projection, based on the image you have of me, in your mind.  But we are still connected, you and I.  That is how the translation matrix still works.  I cannot stay here long, but I feel your distress.  I want you to know, you are loved.  And you are not alone.”

Rory shook his head.  “No, I’m not alone.  And I’ve made good friends, here.”  He sighed.  “But they don’t understand why this is so hard, for me.”

“It is difficult for them to fathom the losses you have already endured.”

“And I feel like I’m being unfair to Meg.  She’s recovering physically, but I can tell that any sadness she is feeling is because of hormonal fluctuations, rather than any real sense of loss.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “I mean, I don’t blame her.  The child was a reminder of something horrible, for her.”  He sighed.  “And yet, I loved him anyway.”

“And your wife… well, _this_ wife, that is… you believe she does not understand your attachment to the child, nor your grief.”

“None of them do.  They are being very kind, but they think I have gone off the rails.  Probably because I told them I have, before.”

“So you have deduced that they think you’re mad for grieving a lost child, simply because you told them that you’ve been mad, before?  Oh, Pretty, that is such rubbish.”

“What?”

“They may not understand _how_ you were able to love the child, but they do not doubt that you _do_.”

“What made me forget?  And why can’t I speak?”

“Ah.  Well, Mr. Stark gave you something after you went into the healing coma.  He thought it would help with the blood loss, but as you know, any interference with a healing coma can cause complications.”

Rory nodded.  “Is it permanent?”

“All of your memories have been restored.  The speech problem may take a bit longer to work out, but it will not be permanent.”

Rory nodded.  He wasn’t sure he cared, really.

“Why have you travelled so far within, Pretty?”

“They already believe me to be mad.”

“I do not think that is true.”

“Maybe if I stay here for a while, they won’t have to watch me grieve.  Maybe I’ll be okay when I wake up, and they won’t have to deal with any more of my nonsense.”

“Grief is not nonsense, Pretty,” she said sharply.  Then she sighed.  “But perhaps some time alone with your grief, not worrying about what others might be thinking, would be helpful.”

Rory watched the stream.  “Meg will worry.”

“I will let her know not to,” Idris said.  She reached out and embraced him.  “I will check in on you, and help you to know when to return to consciousness.”

He hugged her for a long moment.  “I miss you all, so much,” he choked.

“The time will pass, Pretty.  And you will be with us, once more.  Do not despair.”

***


	3. Recovery

Peggy woke at dawn and watched Rory as he slept.  They were facing one another, and she took his hand as she watched the light play over his face.

 _Meg Carter_.

Peggy startled.  It was a woman’s voice.  “Who’s there?”

 _Please do not be alarmed.  We have not spoken before, but we have met_.

“Who are you?”

 _I am the TARDIS.  I sensed my Pretty’s distress, and I have come to check on him_.

“So… you’re… in Rory’s head?”

_I am speaking to you through his mind, yes._

“And where is he?” Peggy felt uneasy.

 _His grief has taken him very far within_.

“What do you mean?” Peggy asked, frowning.

_He loves you all, very much, and he is grateful for your love and support.  But he knows you do not understand his grief, and he does not wish to add to yours._

“Add to my…  You tell him to wake up, this instant!” Peggy said angrily.

_I cannot do that.  He has wandered far.  I cannot force him to return, without causing him more trauma, and that I will not do._

“Why…” Peggy did not understand.  “He was pretty much healed.  I mean, Howard says the memory and speech thing are likely a bit of a mental wobble, but…”

_I see he was right to worry that you doubt his sanity._

The TARDIS sounded annoyed.

“What?” Peggy felt a pang of guilt that their first assumption followed their fears.  No wonder Rory had been so reluctant to confide in them.

_Allow me to correct your misapprehension.  The memory and speech loss were due to Mr. Stark’s medical interference after Pretty went into his healing coma.  They are not symptoms of a mental problem._

“I… I’m sorry,” Peggy said quietly.

_I will have you know that Pretty’s mind is as strong as his hearts are true.  He has endured so much, and has kept his mind, humor and perspective intact because he is able to allow these moments of vulnerability.  After all, those unwilling to bend are the ones who actually break._

“Of course.  You are right.  Thank you for reminding me.  I should not have doubted him.”

_No, you should not.  Now.  As I was saying…  Because he does not want to subject his loved ones to what they cannot comprehend, he has retreated from consciousness to grieve.  He hopes to be all right when he awakens, and that you will not have to deal with his nonsense._

“He said that?”

_He did._

“It’s not nonsense,” Peggy said quietly. 

_Indeed not.  I shall watch over him, and help him to return, when he is ready.  But it may take a bit of time.  Check his bag, and you will find IV supplies that will be needed to sustain him, since this is not a healing coma._

“Thank you,” Peggy said. 

***

Rory finally decided to return to consciousness after the third time Idris prompted him to do so.  She had become increasingly adamant each time they’d spoken, and it was only her concern that convinced him to leave the peaceful space he had found.

He clawed his way back awake, and everything hurt.  He groaned without sound.  It took some minutes to pry his eyes open, and when he did, he saw his lovely wife sleeping beside him in the dim light.  It was three o’clock in the morning.  With some effort, he sat up and managed to remove the IV and leech before stumbling to the bathroom.

The light hurt his eyes, but he forced himself to endure it and was startled by the wildness of his own reflection.  His hair and beard were out of control.  He put towels down on the floor and, while a bath was running, he used his comb and electric razor to trim his beard to what would, in the 2010’s, be a fashionable stubble and cut his hair much shorter than he usually kept it. 

It was a severe look, particularly with the weight loss making him look gaunt.  He looked down and wondered how long he had slept.  His body looked almost as skinny as after the Waverider.  Not quite as emaciated, but still startling.

He poured a bag of Epsom salts into the bath and brushed his teeth and cleaned up the hair while waiting for it to dissolve.  He settled into the bath, trying to decide how he was feeling.  He felt empty.  Wrung out.  And yet so full of sorrow and longing and homesickness that he began to wonder how one hurt had brought out all of the others so powerfully.  

He stayed in the bath until the water was tepid, then rinsed off and returned to bed, not bothering with the pajamas they had put on him.  Doubtless the pajamas had been for Meg’s and Jarvis’ modesty, but he had been sleeping nude since he’d been a Roman, and it was how he was most comfortable, now.

He climbed into the bed and gathered Meg into his arms, pressing her body to his and falling back to sleep with his nose buried in her hair, allowing his love for her to soothe all of the other sorrows.

***

He woke a few hours later to the sensation of his wife’s lips moving over his chest.  He quickly pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly.  When he pulled back, her hand was wrapped around him and her eyes were dark with desire, and he frowned as he shook his head, worried about her state of recovery.

“Tomorrow marks six weeks since my surgery, my Love,” she whispered, and his eyes grew large.  She chuckled.  “You slept for more than three weeks.  Can you not tell?”

He shook his head.  He had been too far away to track time.

Peggy kissed him again, climbing on top of him.  As she straddled his hips, she hiked the hem of her gown up and in one practiced movement, engulfed him in an almost blinding heat.  What would have been a very loud moan came out as a hissed exhalation as Peggy began to move. 

Rory reached up and pulled the straps of her nightgown down over her shoulders, revealing her beautiful breasts.  He sat up, chasing after her lovely body, but found he was too weak to stay upright and keep moving.  He wrapped his arms around her and brought her back down with him, the changed angle causing them both to gasp.

She reached out for the headboard as he lavished attention on her breasts, causing her to moan again and begin to tighten around him.  He realized that it had been almost three months since they had been together, and that was just too long.  He felt his body, almost of its own volition, buck up into her as his release preceded hers by only a few seconds.

They continued to kiss passionately as their bodies calmed.  “I’ve missed you so,” Peggy whispered, and he felt her tears mingling with his own as they continued to kiss.  He pressed the flat of his hand at the small of her back, holding her in place, not wanting to withdraw from her body, just yet.

Her hands were in what was left of his hair as she licked and bit his neck.  His free hand was back on her breast, and he felt his body quickening, once more.  Peggy gasped as she felt him growing hard inside of her, and her own body’s reaction was to squeeze around him so hard he gasped in return.

He gently rolled her onto her back and with great care and patience, he made love to her, silently reclaiming her as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and did the same.

***

Jarvis backed slowly out of the room, a bit relieved that the couple was too preoccupied to have detected his presence.  He closed the door and returned to the kitchen, doing his best not to blush.

Ana, Howard, and Dugan were in the kitchen, drinking coffee.  Ana and Jarvis had been staying in one of the guest rooms, dividing their time between helping Peggy and working for Howard.  The Dugans lived one floor down, so they were able to help, as well.  Dugan and Howard had made it a habit of stopping by for breakfast every morning, to check in on their friends.

“They still asleep?” Dugan asked, noting that Jarvis still had the tea tray he had taken to Peggy.

“I believe the lieutenant has awakened,” Jarvis said, setting the tea things down.

“Outstanding – let’s go see how the old boy is doing,” Dugan strode across the kitchen.

Jarvis blocked his way.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, not quite managing to suppress his blush.

“But,” Dugan frowned.

Ana giggled.  “It is good to see that things are back to normal then, yes?”

Dugan and Howard began chuckling, as well.  Among the group of friends, the Williams’… fondness for one another was not a well-kept secret.  They disappeared far too often in company and came back either unkempt or far too tidy.  Or, occasionally, both. 

It had started at the colonel’s anniversary party, but everyone had been willing to turn a blind eye, as they were newly engaged.  But then it happened so regularly after they were married that it had become a bit of a running gag, among their friends.  One cheerfully indulged because the couple was such a happy one. 

At least they had been, up until a few months ago…

***

A half hour later, the couple entered the kitchen just as Jarvis finished cooking breakfast.  Everyone was pleased to see Rory, though they were curious about his appearance.  He merely shrugged.  He seemed alert and well, but subdued in a way that had nothing to do with his continued silence.

“So, Peggy told us that the memory loss and speech thing are because I gave you that medicine after you went into your coma,” Howard looked awkward.  “I’m sorry.”

Rory reached out and gave Howard’s shoulder a squeeze.  He shook his head and waved his hand from side to side, clearly indicating that it was fine.

“The important thing is that he has already remembered everything, and his voice will return,” Peggy said, leaning over and kissing Rory on the cheek. 

He nodded, reaching for a slice of toast.

“So, explain again,” Dugan said.  “How is it his spaceship talked to you, through him?”

“I think it’s more about time than space.  She said they’re still connected, and spoke to me through his touch telepathy.”  Peggy chuckled.  “She was quite cross with us.”

Rory raised an eyebrow, and Peggy colored.

“We were concerned that the memory and speech issues were because you’d been so… upset.”

Rory whistled and made a circular motion next to his head with a finger.  Peggy caught his hand and quickly added, “No, we did not think you were crazy.  But…” she hesitated.  “You’ve lost so much, Rory.  I hope you’ll forgive us for thinking that losing Brian would take a heavy toll.”

Everyone looked from Peggy to Rory, to see his reaction.  As he stared into his teacup, a subtle change came over his face.  He looked ancient.  And weary.  And then, just as quickly, the change was gone, and their friend seemed his normal self.  He looked around and smiled at everyone before taking Peggy’s hand and kissing it.

_I’m alright._

Peggy smiled and kissed his hand, too.  "No, you're not.  But that's okay."

 _I'll be alright, then_.  He smiled again.

"I know."

Just then, someone entered the apartment.  Jarvis looked out of the kitchen and smiled.  “Good morning, Colonel.”

Rory and Dugan stood.

“None of that,” the colonel motioned for them to sit back down.  “I heard from Dugan that you were awake, Lieutenant.  How are you feeling?”

Rory smiled and nodded at the colonel.

“Still can’t speak, eh?” he frowned.  “Damn.”

“Is there a problem, Sir?” Dugan asked.

“We can’t get Vostov to talk.  Everything we’ve attempted,” he spotted Ana and cleared his throat.  “Well, he says nothing we can do can approach what he’s already experienced.  And the bastard’s pretty smug since he got wind of you being mute.”

Rory looked at Dugan, who gave the smallest shake of the head.  But Howard would not look at him.  Rory gave him a centurion glare that had him heading to work in the next instant.  Rory reached out and took the colonel’s hand.

_I am not going to tell you the word, Colonel._

To his credit, the colonel merely flinched, but took the communication in stride.  “Then can you just come in?  Maybe seeing you will persuade him.  The sergeant here says your technique was… unsettling.”

“Downright creepy, is what it was,” Dugan said, eyeing Rory.

Rory finished his tea and took Peggy’s hand.  Then he kissed her cheek and left the table.

“He’s going to go get dressed,” she said.

“What’s with the new look?” Dugan asked.

“You’ll have to ask him.  He woke up in the night and shaved and bathed and then came back to bed, all without waking me.”

“I think it suits him,” Ana said bracingly.  Maybe it was the accent.  “It likely looks more severe than it would, had he not lost so much weight.  But hair will grow, and we will feed him and fatten him up, a bit.”

“Excellent plan, my Dear,” the colonel raised his coffee cup and saluted Ana.

***


	4. Back in the World

Vostov looked very smug in the interrogation room, until Rory and Dugan walked in.  He went pale, but quickly recovered.  “It is long time since I saw you last, Lieutenant Williams.  You were injured, I think.”  He smiled an oily smile.

Rory and Dugan sat down.  Rory leaned back and just watched Uri as Dugan began asking questions.  Vostov refused to answer, but he was unnerved as Rory continued to stare at him.  Dugan would never tell Rory so, but the weight loss, the haircut, the beard and the hard look in his eyes all combined for a rather terrifying effect.

As the interrogation began to spiral into something quite useless, Rory leaned forward and punched a few numbers into the keypad on the table.  Vostov’s cuffs released.  Dugan glanced at Rory, and the obvious deviation from script made Vostov nervous.  He rubbed his wrists and eyed Rory warily.

Rory got up and walked slowly around the table.

“What is it,” Vostov rallied.  “Cat has your tongue?”

Rory put his hands on Vostov’s shoulders.  The man jumped.  Rory knelt by Vostov, a hand at the back of his neck.  Touching the man revolted him.

_You think that because I cannot speak, you are safe?_

Vostov gave a cry of shock and jumped away from Rory, falling out of the chair and trying to crawl away.  “Keep this волк away from me!”[1]

Rory threw his head back and laughed.  It was an eerie thing, to see him laughing without a sound.  Dugan chuckled, as well.  “You know, there was a time, he was known as the wolf, Uri.  I think maybe you should reconsider your resistance to cooperating with us.”

In his fear, Vostov grew angry and defiant.  “No!  You are bluffing.  You said when I hear the word.  Well if you cannot speak it, then I cannot hear it.  And I know you have not shared it, or _they_ would have used it, by now.  Which means you could not stomach what you did, last time.”  He spat at Rory.  “You are weak!  You cannot speak, and you will not do this thing.”

Rory merely stood there, watching him impassively, allowing him to talk.

“You are no man.  You have been married, what?  More than ten years, and no children.  That boy was my bastard.  It was mine to put into that whore of a wife of yours, and it was mine to take.  So I stomped it out of her, like vermin.  You say I kill your son, but it was not your son.  It was mine to do with as I chose.  _I_ am the one to say whether any child of mine lives or dies.  Certainly not you,” he sneered.

Dugan was on his feet.  He rounded the table but Rory caught him by the arm.  _Pick him up and put him in the chair, please._

Dugan looked at Rory.  Saw that ancient patience that petty words could not touch.  Saw the sorrow.  Sorrow for his loss, but also sorrow for having his hand forced, here.  Uri was not going to give them the information without persuasion, and the one thing they did know was that they needed that information quite badly, now.

The colonel had briefed them before they entered the interrogation room.  A threat was looming.  All of the chatter pointed to something big happening soon, and Uri Vostov knew the details.  But he was a tough old screw, and he wasn’t talking.  As soon as he’d figured out that the mad Englishman wasn’t around, he’d become smug and uncooperative.

Dugan picked up Vostov and threw him back into his chair.  He cast a glance at Rory before stepping back, barely keeping his temper in check.  Rory moved behind Vostov, once more.  He put his hands on the prisoner’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.  Vostov tried to get away, but Rory’s grip tightened.  His thumb found its way under Vostov’s collar, establishing a connection.

_You misunderstood me, Uri.  You don’t have to hear the word with your ears.  In a way, you can hear me now, can’t you?_

Vostov had begun to tremble.  “No, you cannot do it.”

_I will give you one last chance to speak, Uri.  This does not have to happen.  And you need to know that if it does, it is by your own choosing._

“Fuck you, you freak!”

_Pandorica_

***

It only took the one ‘Pandorica’ for Uri to begin singing.  As soon as the six minutes and forty-two seconds had passed, Dugan picked him up and cuffed him to the table, and Rory had asked him once more whether he would cooperate.  Vostov gave them all of the information they needed, and within the hour a massive chemical weapon had been recovered and neutralized, and the would-be terrorists arrested.

Rory and Dugan were sitting on one of the desks in the bullpen area, listening to the colonel as he described the weapon that had been recovered.  Rory saw something out of the corner of his eye as the colonel spoke, and he went very still. 

His hand casually brushed against Dugan’s, and he asked for a pistol.  Dugan frowned but managed to move his sidearm within Rory’s reach without it being noticeable.  The colonel noticed, of course, but he trusted his men.

Rory was able to take the weapon in hand and remove the safety without appearing to move.  Then, moving with startling speed, he raised the weapon and fired.

The Silence standing in the corner of the room fell without making a sound.  Rory scanned the room, not certain what he was looking for, but knowing there was a threat.  He shot the second Silence as it was powering up to strike.

“What the hell is that?” Dugan ran to the first one.  “Wait.  I’ve seen these before.  How did I not remember?”

Indeed, Rory had killed several Silence since arriving in the past.  First the SSR, and then SHIELD had attempted to train its agents to shoot them on sight, but the post-hypnotic suggestion seemed to be limited, when not coming from the Silence themselves. 

Rory had been programmed by a Silence to kill them on sight, and his anger at what Kovarian and her army had done was enough to give him the discipline to keep one in sight as soon as it was spotted, and not look away from it until it was dead.

Rory explained once more about the Silence, and assured Dugan and the colonel that the problem would be more permanently solved before the decade was over.

***

Rory remained mute for months.  He found that one of the byproducts of enforced silence was that he noticed more.  He noticed the tension between Angie and Dugan that culminated in the two separating for a short time.  He noticed Dugan’s drinking and helped Peggy to persuade him to dry out and patch things up with his wife.  He noticed sorrow and eventual acceptance as Jarvis and Ana faced a biased system that refused to allow them to adopt a child.  He noticed Howard had begun to favor one woman, more than others. 

And he noticed that there were times when Peggy would flinch when he touched her.

They were slowly rebuilding their rapport, but her involuntary recoil from his touch had him fighting the urge to ‘Pandorica’ Uri Vostov until he was nothing more than a twitching puddle on the floor.  But being Rory, he reached for recovery rather than retribution.  He was hesitant, realizing he did not know enough, but Peggy trusted him, trusted his instincts.

They began practicing simply, with Rory merely nudging into her mind very briefly, very superficially.  As their trust and confidence grew, they eventually began working to soften her memory of her experience with Vostov.  Rory was able to blur it around the edges, making it seem more like a decades-old memory rather than one less than a year old.

Very deliberately, Rory would nudge into Peggy’s mind each time he touched her, so she would know his intentions and feel his love and trust in her own safety.  If they were in a crowded room and she became tense, he would give her a nudge and let her know she was not alone, that she was safe and protected, that she was loved and cherished.

Slowly, she came to terms with what had happened, and grieved.  Rory supported her with that, as well.  They could not help but grow closer, stronger, as a result.

***

They hosted a party on Christmas Eve.  Rory was at the piano most of the evening, playing festive tunes.  After everyone had left, Peggy sat on the piano bench beside him as he softly played “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”.  She could see he was mouthing the words.  She began to sing along, and soon she heard his voice join hers as it seemed to just switch back on.

***

As time passed, Rory’s grief eased, but it took a while for his melancholy to leave him.  He rallied for his friends and did not speak of his sorrow, but those who knew him well could see that he struggled. 

He had once described it to Peggy as the burden of time.  Too much had passed.  There had been too many losses.  And there was more time before him, more losses to face.  For unless another crosstown bus found him, he faced losing every one of these precious people.  He tried not to dwell on it, but it was out there, looming.

And much as he loved his wife and friends, he desperately missed his family.  His other family.  He was terrified that missing them would make Peggy and their friends feel that he loved them less than he did.  Peggy caught on to this particular struggle early on, and was able to reassure him, effectively giving him permission he had hardly realized he needed to miss his beloveds.

Peggy, realizing that he was homesick, took him to England the next spring.  They visited Leadworth, and saw Grandpa Rory and his lovely wife Claudia pushing a pram down the lane past the house that Rory and Amy would one day share.  The young father recognized Rory, who introduced himself as Arthur Carter, much to Peggy’s amusement. 

Rory managed to refrain from touching either of his grandparents, remembering the burn he had received.  But he couldn’t take his eyes off of the baby.  Young Brian.  Rory gave Peggy a pained look, and she asked if she could hold the baby.  He took a picture, longing to give the child – his father! – a hug and a kiss.

In an attempt to cheer him, Peggy got him drunk and thoroughly took advantage of him, that night. 

London was interesting and fun.  He had been in a version of Cardiff in 1961, but had not seen London.  Overall, the trip cheered him, somewhat.  On the voyage back to New York, Peggy persuaded him to enroll in his next course of study, upon their return.

***

Rory found pure mathematics to be even more delectable than applied mathematics had been.  There was something about it that just made his brain hum.  He spent the better part of the sixties in a sort of intellectual euphoria that Peggy found arousing, amusing, and exhausting, by turns.

***

In 1967, Howard Stark married Maria Carbonell in what was, for Howard, a startlingly modest ceremony.  As if on cue, Peggy and Rory disappeared from the reception.  Their friends found them sometime later, looking suspiciously tidy and stargazing on the patio.

***

 

[1] Wolf


	5. So Close, But Out of Reach

In the spring of 1969, Rory asked to be confined to SHIELD headquarters.  He did not trust himself to not attempt to catch a glimpse of Amy, the Doctor, or Melody.  A special accommodation was on site for visiting… guests.  It was a small apartment that he and Peggy were able to share from late March until early August. 

Rory was not allowed to leave the quarters for those four months.  There were several black days when he made the attempt and had to be restrained, sedated, or both.  Peggy, knowing he would be difficult to subdue, had armed those watching over him with tranquilizer guns dosed with an anesthetic from his first aid kits.  Much to Rory’s relief, he did not harm anyone, but there were some black eyes and sore heads to apologize for, after the fact. 

Dugan followed Amy for a short while, taking photos.  Unable to resist the opportunity, he struck up a conversation with her in a honkeytonk just outside of Phoenix.  She flirted outrageously, but then something extraordinary happened. 

Rory walked in. 

But this wasn’t the man Dugan knew.  This man was awkward and uncertain and utterly besotted with his wife.  Well, then again, Dugan did recognize that last bit.  What was surprising was the softness with which Amy’s eyes held Rory.  She might flirt a bit, and she certainly had a sharp tongue, but she was as enamored of her husband as he was of her. 

Dugan couldn’t stop watching them.  He discreetly took a few pictures as he watched them interact.  He could see his friend clearly in his humor and his devotion, but he could not imagine what had fired this iron before him into the steel that he knew.

And then, as Amy laughed at something Rory had said, he seemed to go still.  He cocked his head, and then looked around, his eyes sharp and wary, as though he knew someone was watching him.  His eyes seemed to pull Dugan apart and put him back together again, assessing.  When he determined there was no threat, the wariness buried itself, once more. 

Dugan realized that at this point in his life, Rory had not reconciled the hard vigilance of the Roman soldier with the clumsy awkwardness of the pacific nurse.  The two sides vied for supremacy, leaving the poor man disjointed and ill at ease in his own skin.

Just then, a third person joined Rory and Amy.  Dugan recognized her from her photo.  The three embraced and pulled out journals, comparing notes.  Rory noticed something out of place.  “River, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, flashing a smile.

“No, you’re hurt.  What’s happened?”

River gave a sigh.  “I just fell, that’s all.”

“Let me see,” Rory was back on solid ground now, Dugan noted.  Amy and nursing were clearly his areas of expertise.  He pulled a first aid kit out of his backpack and took care of the cut on River’s arm.  Dugan noticed the marks on her skin and remembered what Rory had told him about the months the three had spent looking for the Silence.

Once River’s arm was bandaged, she approached the bar and ordered a drink.  “Who are you?” she asked, turning suddenly to Dugan.  When he raised an eyebrow, she huffed.  “You’ve been watching us.”

Dugan sighed.  He owed Rory twenty dollars for being caught out.  “A friend.”

She raised her chin.  “I don’t know you.”

“No, but your father is my best friend.”

River stumbled back a step.  “What?”

“Hey.  Stay cool.  I know they don’t know, yet.”

River glanced back at the table.  Rory raised an eyebrow, having noticed her discomposure.  _Of course_.  She gave him a smile and fluffed her hair as though about to flirt and turned back to the bar.  “Who are you?”

“My name is Tim Dugan.”  He slid the wallet holding his SHIELD credentials over to River. 

River looked at the credentials and frowned.  “I know that name,” she muttered.  Then her eyes widened.  “Dum Dum Dugan, one of the Howling Commandos?” she whispered excitedly.  “You fought with Captain America!  You know Agent Carter!”

Dugan glanced around.  “I assume you know all that from future history, not from contemporary information.”

River got hold of herself.  “Of course.  I apologize.  I would never wish to jeopardize any activities, or put anyone in danger.”  She glanced at him.  “So… is SHIELD working with the FBI on this?”

Dugan snorted.  “No way.  We’re well out of this one.  Have to allow it to unfold as it will.  I’m here… unofficially.”

She took note of the camera, and her eyes widened.  “How is Rory your best friend?” she hissed.

“Spoilers,” he said, taking a sip of his soda.  He almost choked at the expression on her face. 

Exasperation gave way to amusement.  “Oh, he enjoys it far too much when he gets to say that,” she chuckled.  She glanced around and gave a start when she saw that the table was empty.

“Don’t worry, they snuck off a couple of minutes ago.”  Dugan chuckled.  Good to know some things didn’t change.

River laughed.  “Those two.”  She sighed.  “I suppose if they’d raised me as adults that would be more disturbing.”  Dugan didn’t flinch, and she surmised he knew everything.  She rolled her eyes, channeling Mels.  “But we grew up together, so it’s more tiresome, than anything.  Have you any idea what it’s like, to bear witness to one of the most epic, fairytale romances of all time?”  And that didn’t even take the Doctor into account, yet!

“It’s sweet,” Dugan said, realizing for the first time how much his friend must miss his family.  And finally understanding the destructive impulse to simply catch a glimpse of them, no matter the cost. 

“Yeah,” River admitted with a soft smile.  Few children could claim to be the product of such love and devotion.  “And I suppose privacy is difficult to come by, with the three of us sharing a room.”

“Look, we can’t be involved, but I can still help,” Dugan said, pulling out his wallet.  He placed a thousand dollars in cash and a card with nothing but a phone number on it on the bar.  “Get your own room.  Take care of yourselves, and each other.  You need more money, call this number and it’ll be wired right away.”

“And how do I explain this?”

“Just tell them the Doctor gave you a doubloon to sell, or something,” he shrugged.

River laughed.  “Thank you,” she added quietly.  She glanced around and saw Rory and Amy walking back towards their table, looking happy and relaxed. 

“This life, and look at you three,” Dugan chuckled.  “Mad as hatters and happy as clams.”

“It’s the best life there is,” she beamed at him.  Then she sobered.  “I don’t know the circumstances, or how you know him, but tell him I said hello, and… give him this, for me.”  She reached up and kissed Dugan on the cheek.  She took the money and card from the bar and headed back to the table.  When she looked to the bar again, it was empty.

***

Once the world watched the moon landing, everything changed.  SHIELD had a hell of a time, rounding up all of the bodies.  The revolution was quick and bloody and forgotten before the week was out.

Rory and Dugan were waiting outside the White House when Canton Delaware left.  They had timed their arrival carefully, to avoid the paradox.  Canton stopped and stared at Rory for a long moment before shrugging and inviting them to a nearby tavern.  He ordered a scotch, Rory ordered a ginger beer, and Dugan ordered a Pepsi-Cola.

Rory explained far more than Dugan expected, but then again, this was a trusted fellow survivor of a mad adventure with the Doctor. 

“So you were sent back in time,” Canton frowned.

“Twenty-nine years ago,” Rory nodded.

“And you look the same age as your past self did when he left, a half hour ago.  Because you’re not really…”

“Human.  Not anymore,” Rory said with a look that told them it still hurt to admit that his humanity was a thing of the past.

“You’ve been away from Amy for almost thirty years?” he shook his head.

“And another forty-seven or so to go,” Rory shrugged.

“How do you stand it?”

“By living a normal life,” Rory answered.  “Speaking of which…” he looked awkward.  “I’m married.”

Canton just stared.  Then he nodded.  “It’s a long time, to spend by yourself.”

Rory shook his head.  “It’s not because I was lonely, Canton.  I love her.  As much as I love Amy, still.  Or the Doctor, or Jack.”

Canton’s eyebrows flirted with his hairline.  “Poly… that’s… well.”  Then he grinned.  “And River?”

“Turns out she’s my daughter.”

Canton almost spit his scotch onto Dugan, who was chuckling.  “You get the hang of it, eventually,” he slapped Canton on the back.

“Time travel,” Canton muttered.

“That’s a story for another day,” Rory finished his ginger beer.  “For now, I’d like for you to come with us, and meet a few people.”

“Tell me,” Canton said, sitting back.

Rory grinned, enjoying his old friend’s stubbornness. 

“Well, the FBI doesn’t really fit with your life, does it?”

“And you think there’s a place that does?”

“Ever heard of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division?”

“SHIELD?  I have.  Mostly in whispers.  I must say, it’s the hardest anyone’s ever strived to make and acronym work.”

Rory chuckled.  “Well, the three founders would like to meet with you.  They think you’d be a good senior agent.”

“And what makes them think that?”

“Me,” Rory smiled. 

“You do realize that I can write my own ticket at the FBI, now.”

“Maybe.  But SHIELD doesn’t care who you marry.”

Canton eyed Rory closely, considering.  “What does a senior agent for SHIELD do?”

“Consider your work with the Doctor on the Silence issue an audition,” Dugan said.

Canton stood up and smiled.  “Lead the way.”

***

Dugan gave Rory the pictures he had taken while following Amy, along with River’s message.  He had not managed to see the Doctor, but there were pictures of Amy, Rory’s younger self, and Melody.  Rory thanked Dugan for the pictures, feeling grateful for some new mementos.  Dugan slapped him on the back and left for the day.

And then Rory ran.

He found one of the sound-proofed interrogation rooms and screamed until his voice was gone. 

And then he screamed, some more.  At some point, he passed out.

When he came to, he was in a dark, sealed room.  It took him some moments to remember where he was.  He stayed there for hours, until he realized that no one knew where he was.  It took another two hours, but he pulled himself together and returned to the bullpen.  It was two in the morning, and the place was dark. 

He turned on a desk lamp and pulled the pictures from the envelope.  He slowly leafed through the pictures, cherishing each new image of his loved ones.  He hardly recognized himself, but he soaked in the way he and Amy were looking at one another.

He felt a pang, the one he always felt when he missed Amy too much.  The one that made him feel like he was being unfaithful to Peggy.  He touched the photo one last time and put all of them back in the envelope, his heart feeling heavy.

As if on cue, he felt a small, strong hand grip his shoulder.  “It’s all right,” Peggy said, her voice soothing.  “I understand.  It’s all right, that you miss her.  That you miss them.  I don’t want you to add guilt to your burden, do you hear?”

Rory let out a small sob.

“I know you love me, Rory.  I have never doubted that.  And the longer I know you, the more I realize the tremendous capacity you have, for love.  That you love me does not mean you love Amy any less.  And that you love and miss Amy has nothing to do with your love, for me.  So don’t you dare make this situation worse by feeling guilty.”

Rory turned and wrapped his arms around her and wept as she held him.  Once he was spent, she took him home and made love to him and held him close as he finally slept. 

He spent the rest of the year putting himself back together again.  It took almost a month for his voice to return.  But he slowly rebuilt what had, yet again, fallen apart.  He rekindled his patience, knowing that he _would_ see his beloveds again.  He just needed to stay strong. 

And he needed to live each day, enjoying his new beloveds.  Loving them so fully and completely that they need never doubt that he was fully _here_ with them, _now_.  He could look forward to reuniting with Amy and the Doctor and Jack, but he needed to be completely present to those he was with, now.  He had no intention of regretting wasting these years, pining.

***


	6. Studies, SHIELD, and Stanley

In the spring of 1970, Rory successfully defended his second doctoral thesis.  Shortly after, Colonel Phillips had a stroke.  After speaking with Peggy, Rory offered to be a nurse for the colonel so he could stay at home rather than be admitted to a facility for his remaining days.

Rory provided care for his old friend, and the two months he had been given extended to seven.  Rory refused to take credit for this, but Mrs. Phillips well knew that being in his own home, surrounded by family and visited by friends who would have avoided a facility gave him more months than she could have hoped for.

The colonel slipped quietly away the week before Thanksgiving.  His wife collapsed the day after the funeral.  Rory stayed and nursed her, as well.  She died within the month.

Christmas was a subdued affair that year, though the addition of the Starks’ new son was a welcome one.  The Dugans’ three daughters were practically grown, with the youngest now sixteen, so having a child to dote upon helped to make the holiday more festive.

Once the holidays were past, Peggy took Rory away.  He had realized long before that his physiology didn’t actually require a great deal of sleep.  But Rory enjoyed sleeping, so he had kept the habit of slumbering however many hours Peggy did.  However, in caring for the colonel and then his wife, Rory had found – and then pushed well past – his limits.  He was exhausted.

They went to Banff and holed up in a lovely resort, there.  Rory learned how to sleep again, and actually did quite a lot of it.  For the first ten days, he barely left the bed, and once he felt more rested, he barely allowed his wife to leave it.

They were about to celebrate twenty-two years of marriage.  She had finally begun to show a bit of age – enough that it appeared that she had married a younger man, because there was only so much Rory could do to show any physical maturity.  It was not enough to bother either of them, as yet, and they remained quite enamored of one another.

The resort was well equipped, and Peggy was able to do a great deal of work from there, so they stayed for almost two months.  When they returned to the city, Rory began casting about for his next field of study.  He chose engineering. 

Rory felt that the 1970’s were something to be endured.  He had not enjoyed that decade in the universe with no stars, so he was a bit surprised to find that it was a bit better than expected, thanks to his friends.  UNIT had been formed and was trying to collaborate.  Peggy never said anything about it to Rory, but she quietly shunned the agency, not wishing to subject Rory to the type of stress he had endured in 1969.

She had also been blanking Jack and Torchwood for years, though she did occasionally agree to a joint operation – only with Torchwood 3, mind.  She did not really approve of Torchwood 1’s methods.  But if ever Jack asked for assistance, Peggy would do her best to provide it.  It was easier if Rory was on assignment somewhere else, or travelling to do research.

In 1975, Rory received a doctorate in mechanical engineering.  In 1979, he received another in electrical engineering.

“Why are you collecting these degrees?” Canton asked.

Dugan chuckled.  They had all been asking him that, and other than the fact that he was perversely happy when learning these things, there had been no real answer.  Of course, he had to do something with his time, and…

Rory shrugged.  “I can’t work for SHIELD all the time.”

“Why not?”

“You may not have noticed, but his wife is the boss,” Dugan smirked.  When Canton rolled his eyes, Dugan sobered.  “He needs to stay away for a few years, every now and then.  That way people tend to forget about him, and it’s not quite so strange that he doesn’t age.”

Canton nodded.  “Speaking of which, I think Fury suspects something.”

Dugan groaned.  He had retired from fieldwork in 1975, at the age of 63.  He only did it then because Angie had become adamant.  Now he was one of the assistant directors.  He had taken on a young soldier named Nick Fury a few years before, and had been grooming the man to take over field operations. 

“If he’s going to be your head of field operations and you still want to use me, you’ll have to tell him,” Rory said.  He had met Fury several times.  He seemed capable enough.  Far more cloak and dagger than Dugan, but perhaps that was what was needed.  He still remembered Jack’s opinion of the future director – he had called him tough, but the underlying implication was that SHIELD under Fury’s direction would be inferior to what it was, under Peggy’s.

“Do you trust him?” Canton asked.

Dugan sighed.  “He’s a good man.  Much more ‘ends justify the means’ than I like, though.”

***

The 1980’s saw Nick Fury rising through the ranks of SHIELD.  After several missions together, he and Rory came to trust one another, and he was apprised of Rory’s situation.  He could not get a single detail from Rory about where or when his so-called time loop would end, but then he heard that not even Director Carter knew the actual date.  Fury appreciated a man who knew how to guard a secret and protect those around him.

Rory was studying physics that decade, and he found it challenging and interesting and much more fun than engineering.  He was well pleased with being back to a subject that lit his imagination on fire, and he began to understand certain things that had left him scratching his head when the Doctor had tried to explain them.

Peggy and Rory were closer than ever, their bond having been forged in fire, decades before.  Peggy’s hair was shot with silver now, and her face had begun to soften with age, but to Rory she was still magnificent.  And it was the way he still looked at her that gave her the nerve to be on his arm at parties and formal events.  That, and the way he shot down anyone else who came near him.

“How about you leave grandma here and come party with me?” one young thing with big hair and too much makeup said, as she pressed against Rory at the bar at a formal function. 

Rory stepped away from her with a look of thinly-veiled revulsion.  Very obviously, he checked to be sure his wallet was still in his pocket before addressing the woman.  “Thanks, love, but think I’ll pass.  I prefer women to children, and you seem to still be paddling around in the kiddie pool.”

He got pulled into a broom closet a short time later and was rewarded rather nicely for his preferences.

***

It was the mid-80’s when Fury asked Rory to take a new agent under his wing.  Phil Coulson was very much like Rory, with his dry wit and surprising ability to get things done.  Dugan was still going strong, and still as sharp as ever, but Angie had persuaded him to step down to part-time work when he turned seventy-five.  The Dugans still lived in the same building, so they saw one another as much as ever. 

Rory defended his thesis in the autumn of 1988, earning his fifth PhD.  He did not need to tell anyone why he was leaving 1989 clear.  He did not anticipate it being an easy year.  He asked for extra field assignments, to keep him occupied.

On January 27, 1989, Phil Coulson and Canton Delaware found themselves in the maternity ward of a small hospital in Glasgow, taking photos of a newborn girl who had come out squalling to beat the band and in possession of a full head of flaming red hair. 

Rory mysteriously lost his voice for another month, after being given the pictures.

In mid-March, Peggy sent Rory off on an assignment with Nick and then she, the Dugans, the Jarvises, the Starks, Canton, and Phil boarded one of Howard’s planes and flew to England.  At the Royal Leadworth Hospital, the nine of them crowded around the viewing window to watch their newborn friend watch them back with wide open eyes and an unnerving calm.

“That’s him, alright,” Dugan chuckled.

“He’s so tiny,” cooed Angie.

“Can I help you?” came a voice from behind them. 

As one, they jumped.  Turning, they saw a man of about thirty years standing there, looking puzzled.  He stared at the group.  With the exception of one young man, the group were in their sixties and seventies, and looked as though they were admiring his son, though he did not recognize any of them.

“Oh, we’re just here visiting Mrs. Poggit,” Peggy said.  “But who can resist taking a peek at the babies, yeah?”

This seemed to appease Brian, because he relaxed, a bit.  “Ah, I hear Mrs. Poggit isn’t doing so well.  So sorry.  But yes, the babies are a joy to watch.”  He faced the window.  “So much possibility, wrapped up in such a terrifyingly small package.”

“Is one of them yours?” Peggy asked.

“That one there,” he said, beaming.  “The steady, thoughtful one.”

“What’s his name?”

“We were thinking Stanley Archibald,” Brian smiled.

Dugan seemed to choke.

“Nem!” Ana exclaimed.[1]  Jarvis took her hand.

“Family name, is it?” Peggy looked horrified.

Brian seemed less sure of himself.  “It’s my wife’s father’s name.  He’s…” Brian frowned, “…a bit of a bully, actually.”

“Oh.  Well, perhaps your son can change the fortunes of such a name,” Peggy looked dubious.

“You must have other ideas,” Angie blurted.

Maria was laughing into Howard’s shoulder.

“Well, my father…” Brian considered.  “Do you know, he changed my middle name to Arthur?  I was Brian Rory, after him, but then when I was about a year old he ran across the man who’d saved his life in Korea.  Didn’t get his name at the time, but then just ran into him, here in Leadworth.  And he changed my middle name, to honor him.”  He lowered his voice conspiratorially.  “You know, I rather like the sound of Rory Arthur Williams, myself.”

“Oh, that is splendid!” Peggy smiled.  The others were equally enthusiastic, and Brian smiled, his mind made up.  “But will your wife object?”

“Not once she meets him, she won’t,” he beamed at the baby through the glass.

“This may sound like an odd request, but humor an old lady,” Peggy was playing up the daffy old lady thing, and it was all the others could do, to keep from laughing.  “Can I get a picture of you, holding the wee lad?”

“Oh.  Well, I don’t see why not,” Brian smiled.  “I was on my way in to see him, anyway.”

“Oh, you’re so kind.  Thank you so much,” Peggy gushed.

Before they left, they also managed to get a picture of Peggy holding the newborn Rory.

“So he’s named after… himself.  Time travel is just weird,” Phil mused as they left the nursery area.

Peggy stopped short, then started running.  “Doctor?”

When the others caught her up, they were in a small broom cupboard at the end of the hall.  Inside the cupboard was the TARDIS.  Its door was ajar, which was all the invitation Peggy would ever require.

Once they entered, the others were staring around in various states of awe.

“Hello, I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor smiled at the group.  “Welcome aboard the TARDIS.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dugan smiled.  “She’s gorgeous!”

Howard was staring, as well.  “I never thought I’d live to see…”

The Doctor, Amy, River and Jack were all standing by the console, smiling at them.

“How are you, Peggy?” Jack grinned.

“What is it, why are you here?” Peggy asked, feeling a prickle of fear that the newborn might be in danger.

The Doctor adjusted his bowtie.  “We… we just wanted to see him, same as you.”

Peggy narrowed her eyes.  “And?”

The Doctor heaved a sigh.  “And I planted a perception filter, to ensure that no one looking for him will find him.”

“Then how did we find him?”

“I only just activated it.”

“And?”

“And I programmed a computer virus, so no one knows that a child named Rory Arthur Williams was ever born in this town.  In the country, in fact.”  He grinned.

“Is he in danger?” Angie asked, finding her voice as she wandered around.

“There are those who will try to determine where he is from.  I don’t think the child is in danger, but it’s best for our grown-up Centurion that people can’t find his home town, or his father.  To that end, can you delete that information from your records?”

“Of course,” Peggy replied.

“This will help,” Jack handed her a floppy disk with a virus specific to Rory’s personal information.

“Well, we’re off to Glasgow to do the same for young Amelia.”

“Um, just so you know, we were there, and we took a few photos.  For Rory,” Phil found his voice.  “We didn’t have any difficulty finding her.”

The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at Coulson and waved it about, a bit.  Then he did the same to Canton.  “And so you won’t.   Didn’t.  Won’t have.”

Peggy approached Jack.  “So you know, now.  Why I’ve avoided you more than I would have, otherwise.”

Jack nodded.  “Thank you for protecting him.”  He embraced her with such affection that she suddenly realized he was from a time well after her death.

“And you,” she replied.  She stepped back and patted his cheek.  “Jack the lad,” she smiled, and turned to the others.  “Amy, River, Doctor.  Good to see you all, again.”

“Take care, Peggy,” Amy reached out and hugged her.

Peggy looked uncertainly at Amy.  “Do you know,” she hesitated.

“That I’m not the only Mrs. Williams currently aboard the TARDIS?” Amy grinned at her.  “Hey, this is Rory.  He was put on this planet to love people, yeah?”  She looked conspiratorially at Peggy before whispering, “And he’s bloody _brilliant_ at it, isn’t he?”

Peggy burst out laughing and embraced Amy again before heading for the door.

“How about a quick spin?” the Doctor asked, smiling at the group.

Peggy hesitated.  “He can smell the vortex.  Years later, he knew.  I had to lie and tell him Jack took me somewhere with his vortex manipulator.”

“Him and that nose,” the Doctor muttered.

“There’s always the decontamination unit,” River grinned.  “He’d never know.”

“That settles it.  Where to?”

***

Rory didn’t understand the near euphoric state his friends were in when he returned from his mission.  It was as though they had been on some grand adventure.  But then they told him how narrowly he had dodged the Stanley Archibald bullet and gave him the photographs of his newborn self, first with Brian, then with Peggy. 

It was all he could do, not to break down.  The mementos were wonderful, but they also hurt, so much.

Rory fell apart that year, but he seemed quicker to pull himself back together, again.  He knew he could not waste any time, particularly as his friends were getting older.  He was determined to enjoy their time together, as much as he could.

***

 

[1] No!


	7. Friends Made, Lost, and Recovered

In 1990 Rory began studying astrophysics, and he was once more launched into an almost euphoric state of intellectual engagement that his friends could only chuckle at.  But his enthusiasm was contagious, and they all benefited from it, as it had each of them looking for something that would enliven their own minds as they began to look to retirement.

***

In 1991 the group of friends was devastated when the Starks died in an automobile accident.  They attempted to reach out to young Tony and support him, but in his grief he only allowed Jarvis near him.

***

In the mid-90’s, Rory found himself on a tactical team with a new recruit.  He was a kid from Iowa with a quiet demeanor and uncanny marksmanship.  They became fast friends.  Rory introduced Clint Barton to Dugan and Canton when he found out the kid was a big fan of both agents. 

One evening, Rory, Dugan, Jarvis, Canton and his partner Ellis, Phil and Clint were having a friendly game of poker when Angie, Ana and Peggy joined them after a few hours of play, as they usually did.  The three husbands pushed back from the table, and their wives sat in their laps to for a hand or two, everyone talking and having a blast.

To his credit, Clint kept his surprise to himself, particularly when the Director of SHIELD sat on Rory’s knee and, later, when everyone else was chatting, allowed him to give her a rather filthy snog. 

Well, mostly.  He may have blushed, a bit.

The entire table erupted in laughter.

“What is so funny?” Peggy asked, looking at the embarrassed young agent.

“Well, we may not have told him, just yet,” Dugan grinned.

“I should box your ears, you juvenile delinquent,” she reached around and bit Rory on the ear, instead.

“Hey!  No assaulting the ears,” Rory protested, laughing as he launched a counterattack of tickling.

“Told me what?” Clint spoke up.

This was how he found out that his new friend was a no-longer-quite-human-time-travelling-but-currently-grounded-millenia-old Centurion, married to the Director.  He noticed that Rory looked at Director Carter the way he looked at his Laura.  It was that look that made the apparent age difference between the two all but disappear.

***

In 1997, Jarvis died suddenly of a heart attack.  It was mercifully quick, but the friends were greatly saddened by the loss.  Rory and Peggy insisted that Ana move in with them.

***

Rory divided his time between his studies and missions for SHIELD.  He had become highly selective and only joined protective details and rescue missions, as he saw how SHIELD was beginning to evolve.  He tried to speak to Peggy about it, but she defended her assistant director’s choices.  The truth was, she believed that Fury was the best choice for director, once she retired.  And though she did not always appreciate his tactics, she had to stand by his choices or open the agency to in-fighting.

Thus occupied, it took Rory until 2000 to complete his sixth PhD.  He immediately began working on the seventh, and if astrophysics excited him, quantum physics absolutely blew him away.

***

In 2001, Peggy turned eighty and decided to retire.  Nick Fury stepped in as Director of SHIELD.  A year later, Dugan had a stroke.  As before, Rory cut his class load and stepped in to take charge of his friend’s care. 

With proper medication and physical rehabilitation, Dugan made an impressive recovery.  He remained fairly mobile and enjoyed his family and nearly full physical function, but the stroke had weakened him.  Rory spent a great deal of time with him, and he and Angie were with him when he died in the spring of 2003.

Losing his best friend took its toll on Rory.  It took him months to get back to any sort of work or study.  He and Peggy insisted that Angie move in with them and Ana.  Rory resumed his studies, in part to retain his sanity.  Three women of a certain age living in the same apartment resulted in a level of daffiness that he could only cope with in limited doses.  Mostly because they were often quite hilarious, and he was not really allowed to laugh along with them as often as he did.

***

In 2005, Clint came home with a stray.  He returned from a mission with an operative that he insisted could be turned – a young woman in her early twenties who had already made quite a name for herself as an assassin.  Fury called on Peggy and Rory to determine whether she could be redeemed.

She reminded Rory of Melody, so naturally he wanted to help her.  He and Peggy had a tremendous row over it, because she did not think the agent could be turned.  But with Clint’s friendship and Rory’s and Phil’s steady influence, young Natasha seemed to choose SHIELD.  Peggy reluctantly became her mentor.

They became the best of friends, once Natasha had proven herself.  It didn’t hurt that Rory could easily read her.  “That’s the thing, with spies,” he told Peggy, Ana, and Angie at dinner, one night.  “They work so hard to keep their secrets, but it’s the secrets that a telepath finds, first.  You’re all, ‘Don’t look at the elephant, I’m hiding the elephant, you’ll never know there’s an elephant.’  But one touch, and all I see is ‘elephant’.”

“I thought you had a moral objection to reading people without their permission,” Angie said, serving him a piece of the pie she had made, for dessert.

“Normally, I do.  But this kid,” he shook his head.  “The things they did to her, to make her a spy.”  He shrugged.  “I guess I just wanted to be sure that we’re not taking too much of a gamble.”  He ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “After all, Melody did kill the Doctor, there at first.”

“Why should her loyalty be to SHIELD, then?” Ana asked, challenging him even as she patted his hand in sympathy of the memory that had arisen.

“Because we’re the first ones who have given her a choice,” Rory shrugged.  “Not a great choice, but a choice, nonetheless.  And Barton not killing her went a long way, I think.  She knows he could have.”

***

In 2007, Rory took the ladies, Canton and Ellis, Phil, and Clint and his family to Banff, hoping to avoid some of the dustup with the Cybermen and Daleks.  A few showed up at the resort, but the group was in a defendable cottage and were able to hold them off until the Doctor did whatever it was he did at Canary Wharf to make them go away.

***

Ana died quietly in her sleep in January of 2008.  Peggy and Angie mourned their friend, as did Rory, who suddenly had more pressing matters when an apocalypse of robots obliterated ten percent of the population, enslaved the rest and turned the Earth into one big armaments factory.  As part of the resistance, Rory met an extraordinary woman named Martha Jones, who told the fighters about the Doctor, and his plan to save them all.

And then, one day, it had never happened.  Rory had nightmares of that year.  And he had nightmares of that year, as he suddenly remembered that his younger self had experienced it in England, with Amy.  He remembered it twice. 

And it hadn’t happened. 

He was convinced he was losing his mind, but Peggy reached out to Jack, who confirmed that a paradox had occurred, but no one should remember it.  He told her to send anyone she found who did remember to him, and he would get them sorted.

“Yeah, sorted,” Rory snarked.  "Retconned, more like."

***

In the rebooted 2008, the sky changed and the Daleks invaded.  Again.  Rory managed to convince Fury to stand down and concentrate on defense rather than attack until the threat had passed.  Seeing that UNIT's efforts were not exactly helping, the director conceded.  It did not take very long for the world to return to its normal place in the sky.

***

Also in 2008, Tony Stark came out as Iron Man.  Rory laughed. 

Peggy and Nick were not amused.

Rory did not stop laughing.

“He is Howard’s son – what did you expect?” 

***

In September of 2009, Rory asked to be confined again.  He did not provide an explanation, but Fury knew to take the request seriously.  This time, he had the benefit of Wifi, and he talked to Peggy every day.  He spent the time preparing his dissertation.

After the crisis with the 456 passed, he took several assignments related to cleaning up the mess.  He inadvertently almost crossed paths with Jack, and had to ask Barton, Coulson and Romanoff to get him out of the area as the air crackled dangerously.

***

Rory returned to Caltech in June of 2010 to defend his seventh doctoral thesis.  Peggy asked Phil and Clint to go with him, knowing he had a hard time around important dates.  Peggy, Angie and Natasha took a plane to England and crashed a wedding in Leadworth.

Peggy and Angie spotted River, who did not recognize them.  They saw Rory’s face fall when Amy told him she was not happy.  They saw her looking around, as though trying to place something.  They saw her remember the Doctor back into existence. 

“Wow, the stories are real, then,” Natasha said, staring at the TARDIS.  “Wonder if I could get a peek inside.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend it, without an invitation,” Peggy chuckled.

“I like her better, later,” Angie said sourly as she watched Amy try to kiss the Doctor.

“She’s young.”

“I was never so young that I took my Tim for granted, like that.”

“She’ll come around,” Peggy smiled.

“You’re only smiling because you’ve scooped him out from under her and will only give him back, once you’re done,” Natasha said, smiling wickedly.

Peggy returned her grin.  “Perhaps.”  She stood.  “Ladies, I think it’s time to go home.”  She grinned mischievously.  “I’m missing my husband.”

***

For the first time in over sixty years, Rory was not working on a degree of any kind.  He began dabbling in computer programming, just as a hobby.

***

“Do you know what this is about?” Canton waved a TARDIS blue envelope at Rory.

It was early April, 2011.

The letter inside told him what he needed to say and do.  Rory looked sober, but did not elaborate.

When he returned from Lake Silencio, Canton was angry with Rory.  “That was a terrible thing that you had me do.”

“Me?”

“Well, you didn’t warn me.”

“The letter said you were going to witness his death, and that you needed to assure our younger selves that he was actually dead.  What about that didn’t warn you about how it would go?”

“The three of you were devastated.  Well, Amy was devastated.  River was calculating her next move, and you…”

“I didn’t believe it.”

“How did you know?”

“You know, he asked me that, once it was all done and over.”

“And what did you say?”

Rory shrugged.  A shadow fell across his face.  “I killed Amy.  I know what real feels like.  And _that_ wasn’t real.”

He told Canton the whole story over Scotch and ginger beer.

***

In July of 2011, Nick Fury called Rory in to SHIELD.  “I have a special assignment for you,” he said.

Rory sat down and waited for Fury to get on with it.

“We’ve found Steve Rogers, and he’s alive.  The first attempt at easing him into the news that he slept for almost seventy years… didn’t go well.”

Rory shook his head.  “I wish you’d called me in sooner.  I could have been there, when he woke.  God knows how traumatic it must have been for him, your way.”

“Well, you’re here, now,” Fury frowned.  Rory did not seem in the least surprised.  “Have you always been this insubordinate?”

“Only when my friends are being hurt when they don’t need to be.  Where is he?”

***

Steve looked relieved to see a familiar face.  “Is it really 2011?”

Rory nodded. 

“Sixty-six years.  It’s a lifetime.  I’m glad to see you, though.”  He stared for a moment.  "You haven't changed, at all."

Rory had always been a rip the bandage off kind of nurse.  “There’s a lot for you to take in, but there are things you need to know.  You may not want me around.”

Steve looked askance.  “Why not?”

“I married Meg.”

Steve stared at him for a long time.  Then he nodded.  “Good.  I’m glad she wasn’t alone.”

“It’s okay, if you’re angry.”

“I don’t know what I am," Steve sighed.  "I’m Rip Van Winkle.”

“But you didn’t sleep your life away, Steve.  You still have your life in front of you.”

“Without my friends.  What am I supposed to do?”

“Make new friends.  Honor the old ones, but love the new ones, for as long as you can.  Repeat as often as you can.”

Steve stared at Rory for another long moment.  “It’s so easy to forget that that’s what you’ve had to do.  Jesus, Rory.  They’re all gone, aren’t they?”

“There are a few left.  Dugan’s widow lives with Meg and me.  Jarvis’ widow did too, until she passed.”

Fury had unloaded on Steve, almost immediately, telling him which of his friends were still alive, which were gone.  So he knew about Howard and Dugan and Jarvis.  And, of course, the colonel.

Rory visited Steve often, helping him to grieve and to process what had happened.  Steve had decided that he would wait a while, before visiting Peggy.

“It’s because I’m old, isn’t it?” Peggy asked, looking distressed.

“No, it’s because this isn’t 1945, and he needs to wrap his head around that.  You know this, Love,” Rory gathered her into his arms.  She brought his head down so his forehead was resting against hers.  He nudged in and let her see that he wasn’t just telling her a pretty lie.  “The only reason he sees me is because I haven’t changed.  He needs to acclimate, that’s all.  You remember what a basket case I was when I first arrived.”

She nodded.  “I know.  I’m being silly.”

“You’re being beautiful.”

“Now _you’re_ being silly.”

“You’re being marvelous.”

“Stop it.”

“You’re being gorgeous.”  He kissed her.

Before long, she was laughing at his attempts to cheer her.

***

“So what you’re saying is, you knew,” Steve and Rory were sparring.

Rory wasn’t sure this was the best time to admit to this, but he wasn’t going to lie.  “Just vague details.”  He sighed.  “It was a very large fixed point.”

“Which means trying to change it would have made it worse.”  Steve feinted, then delivered a brutal punch.

Rory was out of practice.  There weren’t that many people he could spar with.  He gave himself a shake.  “It would have, but I wish I had realized it was that day.”  He managed three rabbit punches to Steve’s ribs.

Steve threw a haymaker that Rory ducked.  “Why?”

“Because I would have gone with you.”

Steve dropped his hands and stared at Rory.  “What do you mean?”

Rory grabbed a towel and his water bottle.  He rested his forearms against the ropes of the ring and stared at the far wall of the gym.  “I couldn’t have changed what happened, but I could have made sure you didn’t have to face it alone.”

“But what makes you so sure you would have survived…” Steve trailed off as he saw Rory shift and realized what his friend was telling him.  “You would have sacrificed your chance to see your family again, to do that?”

“It’s the only thing I could have done.”  Rory shook his head.  “Knowing the future is a terrible burden.”

“So through the years, you knew that this would be the state of things…”

“And every time there was a chance to do something different, something better, and humanity chose the same old way, a part of me mourned what might have been, even as my own world came into sharper focus.”

“How do you stand it?”

A soft smile ghosted across Rory’s face.  “Meg.  Dugan.  Our friends.  My studies.  The occasional mission.  It’s been a good life, Steve, despite the state of the world.”

“You don’t have much longer to wait, do you?”

Rory rolled his head from side to side.  “I feel like I’ll come out of my skin, if I think about it, too much.”  He smiled.  “Besides, there’s a lot of stuff, between then and now.”

***


End file.
